Once Upon A Time…In Hollywood | Film Review

“Everything that’s realistic has some sort of ugliness in it” – Sharon Tate

The ‘60s were a time of change in America. Cultures clashed, sensibilities became enlightened, inhibitions softened, and Hollywood was at the epicenter of it all. Entertainment was at a period drastically different from the world of today, as television stars rarely made the jump to film (Steve McQueen and Clint Eastwood proving rare exceptions) and if they attempted and failed, they were relegated to guest starring roles in lesser TV shows, ostensibly stomping the career of the former TV-hero into the ground in the process. In 1969, with the murder of actress Sharon Tate at the hands of the Manson Family, the world cemented itself into another drastic turn towards the stark and gritty realism of the ’70s. Quentin Tarantino’s Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood sets its gaze on a handful of days contained within this tumultuous year.

Rick Dalton (Leonardo DiCaprio) is one of those TV stars who failed to make the jump to movies. Since starring in a hugely popular series, Bounty Law, Dalton’s attempt at a film career has stalled and he is now coming to grips with guest-star roles portraying heavies in random TV ventures. After an offer to star in Italian spaghetti-westerns surfaces, Dalton faces a difficult choice in his career: take another stab at leading man heroics in a lesser market for enough money to extend his lavish Beverly Hills lifestyle, or face the possibility of professional extinction.

Leonardo DiCaprio understands this character more than most, himself launching from television into movies in the ‘90s and fighting ever since to remain on top. There is a sincere reverence DiCaprio imbues in Rick that is feverishly palpable, breathing empathy into a character most of us could never otherwise understand: the life of a washed-up, filthy-rich Hollywood elite. Rick is down, but never out, and even a compliment from an insanely mature 8 year-old proves fruitful enough to turn his previously pathetic frown upside down. That is DiCaprio’s greatest skill over the past few decades, turning arrogant unlikability on its ear, and it serves him well as we strive to relate to Rick’s bitter battle to remain culturally relevant.

In Rick’s corner is his longtime stuntman and pal, Cliff Booth (Brad Pitt). Long suspected of murdering his wife and getting away with it, Cliff’s career has also hit the skids – relegated to driving Rick around and doing odd jobs around his house – and is ultimately sidelined in Hollywood except when Rick steps up to vouch for his best friend. Unlike the perpetually narcissistic Dalton, Cliff takes life on the chin and continues pushing forward, living his life far away from Cielo Drive in the back of a drive-in movie theater with his tough-as-nails pitbull, Brandy, at his side.

With Pitt’s movie-star looks, downhome charm, and stuntman physique, he embodies a perfect opposition and complement to Rick’s insecurities. Trading barbs and punches with Bruce Lee (a wildly accurate portrayal from newcomer Mike Moh) while taunting any token professional opportunities tossed his way, Pitt takes full advantage of his best performance since Inglorious Basterds, igniting the screen every second he appears on it. There are several scenes where Pitt does little more than gaze at a hitchhiker or offer a tempered reactionary look to one of Rick’s pitiful displays of weakness, and each time the actor remains so captivating it almost appears as though he’s daring us to look away and risk missing another golden moment. It’s a rare occurrence for Leo to walk away from any film upstaged, but Pitt more than rises to the occasion.

And the third star of this ode to Hollywood’s past is Sharon Tate (Margot Robbie), an up-and-coming actress married to hotshot director Roman Polanski on a collision course with fate. Unlike DiCaprio and Pitt, Robbie’s role here is relatively minor, affording her little character depth and instead coasting on the actress’s sheer mystique to garner our sympathies and concern as we indulge in the aura of Sharon Tate reincarnated. Watching the film build to that fateful day where horror landed at Tate’s doorstep can be a tense endeavor to endure. Yet given Tarantino’s penchant for revisionist history, the film does an admirable job of playing joyfully with these expectations, while Robbie exquisitely captures the essence of Tate’s magnetism.

Full disclosure: Quentin Tarantino is my favorite working writer and director. There is a nuance to his verbal sparring and banter that is second to none, and his visual style continues to improve each and every film. He is unrivaled in modern cinema for captivating every ounce of the screen whenever he is at-bat. I preface that to say this; though I enjoyed the film overall, I would be doing a disservice to not mention that it is stocked with over-indulgences and inconsistencies, not the least of which is the sluggish pace at which events unfold.

At over 2 hours and 40 minutes, the pacing here is grossly inflated, especially over the first half. Establishing characters and allowing them to breathe and live in his world is notable, and a large reason why so many revere Tarantino. Yet, there are numerous instances where this film holds seemingly a minute too long on a random billboard, hangs forever on characters with no real relevant storytelling happening, or just driving around Hollywood. There is probably no less than 15 minutes worth of driving in Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood, and only 2 of those minutes – establishing how far from Beverly Hills and outside Hollywood Cliff truly lives – are necessary. If you need to know when is an apropos time to refill that large popcorn? It’s anytime anyone hops behind a steering wheel. Trust me, you can probably grab another Coke and grab a quick Red Apple cigarette while you’re at it.

My other issue with the film is the distinct variance in tone. To be perfectly honest, the first half of the film almost feels like a completely other film. Love him or not, when you’re watching a Quentin Tarantino film, you KNOW it’s a Tarantino film. The dialogue pops, the discussions are insightful and unique, the foot fetishes are prevalent. This first half of Once Upon a Time feels like a completely different filmmaker. The banter is hit-or-miss, there are long stretches of silence as the camera pans lovingly around Hollywood, and a sense of meandering dominates the air. Not to mention, if you’re a novice on the inner workings of filmmaking or the world of Hollywood lore, there are several sections of the film that may completely fly over your head.

Aside from the performances – including stellar supporting turns on all accounts – and an eclectic soundtrack, the film languishes around, wandering aimlessly as it searches for meaning and plot points. It isn’t until Cliff drops a hitchhiker off at the famed Spahn Ranch that the film finally starts clicking into gear. Tarantino has always had a penchant for deliberate pacing, but something about the choices here make for moments that teeter on an absolute rarity for him: boredom. Not to say the film is boring, it’s not. But this first half has more than a few opportunities for contemplative bathroom breaks, something unheard of in previous QT films.

Those critiques aside, even a weaker Tarantino film is better than most directors’ best films. And once Pitt swaggers his way onto that ranch stock-full of Manson Family cultists – where even the cinematography seems drenched in a dour haze of impending doom – everything we love about the writer and director revs its magnificently tuned engine. From here on out, we edge a bit closer to our seats and chew a touch more on those nails as the story approaches its rousing conclusion when our characters fittingly arrive at a crossroads in relation to one of the most fateful nights in Hollywood history.

Walking out of Once Upon a Time…in Hollywood, I was immediately left with a feeling of disappointment. Yet, as I sat on the film, it did what every good Quentin Tarantino film does and left me with an era to ponder, dialogue to relive, and an entire movie to deconstruct with friends. It is not the perfect complement to Pulp Fiction or The Hateful Eight, nor does it continue the seemingly endless obscene violence from other titles in his catalog. Akin to other films centered on the business of making movies, the film will live or die based on your own knowledge of Hollywood history and appreciation for the arts.

What it does do is offer two of the best performances in both Leonardo DiCaprio and Brad Pitt’s careers, while shining a spotlight on a pivotal time of shifting ideologies in this crazy business we all love. Whiffed careers, wonderful characterizations, missed expectations, surprising revelations, joyful cameos, excessive runtime, and an ending to be talked about for years; I ask you, what could be more Hollywood than that?